Sunday, November 29, 2015

Looking for...not this!

Pictured below is the yearly result of having 2 (sometimes 6) dogs, one grandchild, 4 children, 2 busy adults, no maid and one large heavy barely moveable leather sofa in the house and you are now desperate to find one of your good spoons used on Thanksgiving that the grandchild thought was a great toy until it wasn't so he dropped it somewhere and no one can find it.

Dog and family secret lost and found.
Unedited for your viewing revulsion amusement!

17 balls.
6 dog chew toys.
1 child's book.
1 book cover.
1 Winnie the Pooh.
1 giant rubber band.
1/2 of an Easter egg.
1 beaver tail. Not real.
1 plastic cup.
1 plastic muffin papers holder.
1 part of a solar light.
4 grandchild toy parts.
1 squeaker.
1 expensive looking electronic part.
Some crumbs.
Several dust balls.

What's under your sofa?

Thank-you for being here.

Thursday, November 19, 2015

First level of hell...Check ✓

There are some people who speculate that there are multiple levels of hell.
I have heard some folks say there are 7 levels and some folks claim 9.
But the hell I'm talking about today involves dogs, so that would be 49 or 54 levels of hell.
Which is way too many to think about.
I could not imagine it...until today.
When I survived the first level of hell.
Well at least a level of complete madness that happens to dog owners when the dogs in question act like their brains have been removed and replaced with bubbles.
---- ---- ---- ----
My daughter is at my house with her 2 very devoted dogs while she recovers from her adult tonsillectomy.
Even with a female family bloodline of very high pain tolerance she says her pain on day 6 is a 6 out of 10.
So I'm guessing that for the rest of the world it would be a 'kill me now, I'm begging you' out of 10 on the pain scale.
Very sad.
She is dealing with tonsil hell, but that's another story....
Any way to give her a break and a quiet house for a little bit, I decide to take her 2 dogs and my 2 dogs for a walk at the family cabin where they can run and play with abandon.....sans leashes.
It is to laugh.
No leashes?
The no leash rule must only apply to dogs that actually use their brain.
Well my dogs immediately jump out of the car and head down the steep hill towards the creek.
My daughters dogs do the same.
Every one is happy and ready to walk the trail.
Dog #1 gets to the creek edge where the bridge used to be and stares at the rest of us who have excitedly crossed the cold, wet water and are staring back at her because...well, the bridge was gone and we weighed the other options.
After a delay of what seems like biblical proportions and numerous attempts to coax her to the other side, dog #1 decides her option is to turn around and prance back up the hill, the way she came.
Are you kidding me?
She was the most excited to go!
Well I can't let her go up the hill and be by herself because she also chases cars.
So I cross the creek again and climb the hill to go get demon dog #1.
The 3 other dogs follow me.
I get to the car and because she has no leash, I have to chase her around the car until I can catch and stop her by flattening her on the ground and quickly picking her up.
My eye starts to twitch a little...
She is small but heavy as a bag of rocks.
Yay, here we go again!
Got the dog under my arm and all 5 of us head down the hill to the creek.
Half way down, I realize that dog #2 is not with us.
So I call her.
She is usually much more obedient and most likely busy doing doggy things, so we all keep going and cross the creek again and wait for dog #2.
Call by name.
Dadgum it!
Why didn't I bring leashes so I could make them come with me and have a fabulous time like I'm having?
My upper lip starts to quiver.
Thinking that dog #1 will not possibly cross the creek, I leave her with my 2 dogs and I start back up the hill to the car to get demon dog #2.
Half way UP the hill there are 3 dogs following me.
Get to the top and grab dog #2.
I explain to dog #2 how this activity works.
She wags her tail, she gets it.
Ok...lets try this again.
I cannot carry both dog #1 and dog #2 to ease my fear of repeating this hike, because I have a walking stick in one hand due to the treacherousness of this crazy terrain that I thought would be fun.
Putting dog #2 on the ground and picking up for a second time, the now wet bag of rocks dog #1 under my arm, the 3 remaining dogs stay right beside me because they know I am now angry.
I am grumbling at them through my teeth, wheezing like a bear and stomping like a dinosaur down the hill.
We all finally cross the creek after 5 trips up and/or down the now seemingly gigantic mountain of a hill and they all start wagging their tails, sniffing everything in sight and sprinting in happy dog circle runs like they thought of this grand adventure all on their own.
No dogs...this was MY idea, but you turned it into a nightmare.
We take a short walk down the trail and I decide to go back to the car.
My soggy feet are cold and my fuse is short and even though I love all of them, they will not have too much fun today.
There you have it.
Stubborn, do whatever they want, leashless, bubble head dogs plus about 800 miles of mountain climbing and creek walking is my first level of hell survival story today.
This all occurred after I took care of a sick, sneezy, busy, stubborn, do whatever he wants 20 month old grand baby for hours and hours.
I'm going to bed.

Thanks for being here.

Left to Right, Dog#2 and Dog #1
Don't make eye contact.
They are searching for souls...

Just kidding.
They're looking for snacks...and bubbles.

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Getting Stuff Done...Or Not....

Taking care of a grandbaby is a lot of tiring work.
Don't get me wrong.
Every minute is fun and full... of all kinds of things...but some provide a visual I don't want to go into here.
Even with every minute being full, nothing gets done.
Well not really.
Nothing gets done around here on a regular basis, but especially nothing gets done when my fabulous Jeplen is here.

Jeplen is taking a 'The Incredibles" movie break from our exhausting morning of getting nothing done.
I love that the head of Edna Mode can be seen in the mirror.
Love her.
Where was I?
Oh yes.
Feeding, playing, reading to, changing, tickling, snuggling with and chasing after Jeplen for hours leaves no time for straightening up anything.
Which takes it's toll on the state of the house...which was already mostly stirred up when he got here.
Have I mentioned my housekeeping skills before?
They are virtually nonexistent
I try.
I truly do.
But I'm kind of a rebel and of the mind that a clean house is a sign of a wasted life.
In my opinion.
Which is what this blog is about.
My life and my opinion.
Wait don't click out....
Sometimes I can be interesting.....
So things get stacked on top of other things.
Very stacked when Jeplen is here.
Things must be kept away from the toddler or they will be chewed on, broken, shared with a dog or simply disappear.
There is no time to put things in their proper place.
He was here yesterday.
For example:

Kitchen Counter
Stuff stacked from one counter to this one after I cleared off the other counter.

Stacked Stove.
Now there is no guilt about not cooking!

Don't judge me.
Nevermind...go right ahead.
I'm too tired to worry about it.
Besides, I'll just stack the judgment on the counter with the other stuff.

Thanks for being here.

P.S. Here is what things look like after he leaves so you won't judge me quite so harshly.

Blurry kitchen counter.
Because I was squinting.
My glasses got lost somewhere.

Found them.

Cleaned off the stove.
Dang it.
Time for dinner.

See you soon!

Sunday, November 1, 2015

Exercise Smeckzercise

I'm no Doctor, I just play one on my blog.
So I advise myself as I grow older that planned exercise should be less and less of a priority with each passing day.
No not really.
I advise myself to exercise a lot and keep moving, but who listens to their doctor?
Not me.
Phyllis Diller inspired me with her quote: “My idea of exercise is a good brisk sit.”
I totally agree with her.
But it seems that mother nature has taken my jumping jackless attitude to heart and coerced my body into involuntarily moving.
A weak bladder.
Not just the sneezing, laughing too hard, jumping on the trampoline kind of weak bladder either.
I have the get up in the middle of the night 8-10 times kind.
My routine burns calories by getting up and out and back into again a bed that is 12 inches higher off the ground than most beds.
I also work my abdominals by tossing and turning from side to side trying to delay, ignore or at least get comfortable for one stinking minute, each and every time the call of nature shrieks in the night.
I can really work up a sweat in 6-8 hours.
And nightgowns are the only clothing needed for this work-out.
During the day I can go for extended periods of time and not even give my bladder a passing problem, but once I grab a blanket and pillow and try to relax, then some of my organs think it's time to get busy and stop relaxing.
I could blame having children and sometimes I do.
I could blame aging and sometimes I do.
I could not blame anything and stop being a cry baby.
It's life.
It's involuntary exercise and that's better than no exercise at all.
So Mother Nature wins.
She thinks exercise is important and is going to see that my training gets done no matter what time of day or night it is.
She is a demanding coach who can't be ignored.
I have acquired some new skills as a result of her guidance too.
Getting around quietly in the dark has become a breeze, delayed gratification is practiced most nights and keeping fit with my many porcelain throne squats has given me thighs that any Spartan would be proud to have.
So there it is my friends.
Exercise comes in the strangest ways.
It's no triathlon or exercise competition, but every workout starts with a step.
Step out of the bed.
Hit the floor.
Turn right.
5 steps.
Turn right again.
9 steps.
Watch out for the dresser.
Turn left.
4 steps.
Turn left again.
2 steps.
Goal achieved.
Repeat 8 times nightly or as needed.
Doctors orders.

Thanks for being here.

After a Successful Night Workout.

Just kidding.
I have long hair.